The Anniversary
by nic73
Summary: I was watching one of my favourite episodes, Red Rover, Red Rover, where Red John taunts Jane on the anniversary of his family's death. We see Jane go to a restaurant and sit at a table set for three to remember his family. I wondered: what about now? Now he has a new wife and child, what does he do? I hope you like what I came up with.


Jane looks down on his three week old daughter sleeping peacefully in his arms. He shakes his head at the transformation a little food and a change of diaper can make. Just half an hour earlier, her impatience at not having her needs met, within a moment of her letting them known, showed in her red angry face, a cross between a beetroot and a carved pumpkin, her hands and feet flaying, her movements and her noise level, quickly escalating with every second her needs went unheeded. Her impatience has sparked a few interesting conversations on who she takes after, each parent giving the other one the honour. A pleasant debate finally decided with Jane laying handcuffed on the floor, with Lisbon's knee in his back, accepting the accolade of being the demanding one.

A confession that would be thrown out in court, a theory he put to the test one day, which Lisbon was able to refute by throwing his own words back at him, where in a personal, intimate, conversation he'd tried to calm his wife's fears by recounting his experiences as a new father with a demanding new born. He argued the testimony being inadmissible, citing husband and wife privileged communication. Unfortunately having plaintiff and judge rolled into to one, does not result in a fair hearing.

He lifts his daughter towards his face until the delicate skin of her cheek is against his own, he gently rubs his cheek against it,the softest part of his stubble tickling her skin, something he's found she loves, something she definitely gets from her mother.

He kisses her softly, drinks in her intoxicating aroma, a mixture of new beginnings, vulnerability and wonder, and lays her inside her bassinet. She instantly pulls herself up into a ball, her body tense at the distress she feels from the loss of her father's touch. Jane rubs her back until her limbs relax and then lays her blanket on top of her. He brushes the top of his fingers down the back of her head, then stands watching her sleep. The love and gratitude he feels overwhelming him, bringing tears to his eyes. As he wipes them away he notices, ruefully, that it's been happening a lot the past three weeks. A teasing voice reaches his ears from the direction of the doorway.

"I thought it was Mother's that were meant to do all the crying…hormones etc."

Although he never turned around he could tell that she was moving towards him, as she spoke, then he feels arms snaking around his body, entwining him in a hug, her body pressed against his back, her small stature, somehow, able to engulfing him in warmth and security, desire and love. He smiles and strokes the back of her hands.

"Good morning."

She mumbles her reply into his back, he can feel her warm breath permeating the cloth of his pajamas and caressing his skin.

"Good morning, how are you doing?"

He spins in her arms so he's facing her at the concern in her voice, which is he seeing reflected in her face. His heart melts and he kisses her lips, with every ounce of love and gratitude he feels for this remarkable woman he's married.

She knows, he's never said anything, but she knows.

She brushes her hand through his hair, and smiles, reading his thoughts through his kisses.

"Of course I know. It's a day we all prepared for, ready to give you whatever you needed, which was usually ignoring it, pretending that we were completely oblivious of what day it was, and what it meant to our friend."

He knows she's talking about their time at the CBI and guilt hits him in the stomach and he holds her close.

"I'm sorry, I..I..just didn't want to, no, couldn't talk about it. The memories and feelings were hard enough, putting them in to words, hearing them spoken out loud was too much to bare."

She nods her head in understanding.

"And now?"

He looks between his extraordinary wife, who infects every part of his being, so completely, that without her, he would cease to exist, and his precious daughter, his second chance. The two of them together making up a world he never thought he would inhabit again, a world he holds onto ferociously, because despite the hidden fear that swirls in the air like an obnoxious smell, that never quite leaves in spite of every effort to scrub it away, he needs them, they allow him to live, to survive, to experience life.

On this day of days, when he knows how easily, thoughtlessly, carelessly, it can all disappear, blow away like it never existed, to be left with a dark hole, and only memories, too painful to revisit, to fill it with. He looks back at his beautiful wife and admits:

"I don't know what to think, I don't know what to do. I feel conflicted, guilty."

She wordlessly takes his hand and leads him into their bedroom, where she sits him on the bed. She kneels down in front of him and takes his face in her hands.

"There is no conflict here, no guilt. This is the day to remember them. To give yourself over to them. You loved Angela and Charlotte deeply. I was a witness to your fervent devotion to them for many years. It's part of why I feel totally secure in our love, because I know I can trust you with my soul, and you will never betray it. Charlotte is your child, and that can never be forgotten, she's our daughter's big sister, she's a part of this family."

He gathers her up in his arms, emotions so strong, they're rendering him speechless, he only hopes his body can convey where words fail. After a long minute he feels he has control of himself and pulls away, he kisses her deeply, full of passion, but not fuelled by desire, fuelled by a love deepened by gratitude, respect and a need for this woman, that encompasses every part of him: the physical, the sensual, the mental, and the spiritual.

As their lips parts she asks:

"What did you do on that day?"

The question surprises him.

"What?"

"You use to slip away early, what did you do? If it was anyone else I would presume that they visited the graves, but I doubt you did."

He's never shared how he commemorates that awful day, he never expected to. Would he have shared if she asked then? She's been his best friend for a long time, he learnt to trust her with his life and freedom. Yes, he's sure, if she'd asked, he would have told her, but she allowed him his secret.

He coughs to clear a lump that's set up home in his larynx.

"I go to a restaurant…..the table's set for three….I…I drink to their memory. I try and think of the good times….sometimes it works…sometimes it didn't."

"That's lovely, I knew you would come up with the perfect thing. I want you to continue. Don't stop because of me, because of us. That's your way to remember them, it's okay by me, its for you and for them."

He didn't know he could love her more, he didn't know there was still room in his heart, but it seems to expand to fit more. He knows what he wants to do. He shakes his head.

"No, I don't want to remember them that way anymore. They're with me all the time, tucked safely in my heart. I remember them through you and our beautiful daughter. I don't want to be on my own. Let's spend the day together, do something fun and go out for dinner at the end."

She smiles at him and he knows he has her approval.

"That's sounds wonderful, and we would be honoured"

She looks at him quizzically as he can't stop a small smile playing on his lips.

"What is it?"

"I..I..just got a picture in my mind of grown up Charlotte rolling her eyes and saying:

"About time Dad."


End file.
